


your number, to go

by kuddlbug



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, College, Fluff, Kinda?, M/M, Mentioned Osasuna, Miya Atsumu has a crush, Not Beta Read, POV Miya Atsumu, Pre-Slash, it's also a college au haha bet ya didn't see that coming, jk it's mainly a coffee shop au, sakuatsufluffweek2021, science major osasuna, this was cuter in my head, yes this is a coffee shop au what about it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29825793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuddlbug/pseuds/kuddlbug
Summary: atsumu tags along with osamu and rintarou on a study date that he wasn't even invited to.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 104
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	your number, to go

**Author's Note:**

> a (super) late submission for day 9 of sakuatsu fluff week 2021  
> this is based on that day's prompt, "you're staring."

It was a nice day; the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. Yes, it _was_ a very nice day indeed, Atsumu thought. That is, up until he agreed to tag along with his brother and his brother’s friend. 

He had expected to hang out with them, but boy was he wrong. Instead of a day filled with fun and exciting outdoors activities, they took him out to have a study date (emphasis on “date”) and left him to third wheel on the seat opposite of theirs. 

If it hadn’t been for the free cup of coffee in front of him, he would’ve left the two alone hours ago.

He took the little spoon that came with his coffee and napkin and started stirring his drink. He’d been doing this for the past two hours to keep himself busy while the two talked to each other without minding him.

The drink had long gone cold and it wasn’t even half full anymore—almost finished, in fact—yet he still preserved it in fear that if he were to finish it, he wouldn’t have anything else to entertain him while the two boys in front of him shamelessly flaunt their totally-not-romantic relationship.

That’s a lie. They were definitely dating.

After a few seconds of purposeless stirring, he spooned up a bit and slurped it from the small spoon like a soup.

Atsumu brought his eyebrows together in disgust. 

It was probably due to the fact that the coffee had gone cold, or because he’d scooped up the sugar that had sunk to the bottom of the cup instead. Perhaps it was due to a combination of both of those reasons. Either way, that small spoonful of whatever that he had just put in his mouth was one of—if not, the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted in his twenty years of life.

It was like eating a thick, sugary soup, which was essentially what it was.

As he grabbed a napkin to desperately wipe the taste off of his tongue, he looked at the two boys that sat across from him. As expected, they were still too immersed in their conversation about cell walls and whatnot to pay any attention to the one who was suffering silently.

Having successfully wiped most of the disgusting taste away, Atsumu crumpled up the napkin and set it aside. He only realized how unhygienic that was after he’d already done it.

He let out a low groan, which surprisingly caught his brother’s attention.

Of all the things he’d done…

“You okay ‘Tsumu?” asked his brother.

His brother, Osamu, didn’t look particularly concerned. From the tone of his voice alone, anyone could tell that he only asked because Atsumu’s groan had interrupted him, and he wished to know what could be so troubling to the older boy that he had to let out such a sound.

Atsumu looked up at him. “No,” he answered bitterly.

“Why? Coffee not good?”

“No,” he answered, sparing a glance at the cup that sat to his right. The mention of it almost brought back the taste he’d so desperately tried to get rid of moments ago. He grimaced at it. “No, it’s not that,” he continued, though it was really partially that.

“Then?”

Osamu’s friend, Rintarou, was also looking at him now, waiting for an answer as well despite appearing uninterested.

“It’s just,” Atsumu sighed, “this hangout’s real boring.”

The two boys glanced at each other, then back at him.

“We’re not hangin’ out,” Osamu told him as if he should’ve known that by now.

“Yeah, we’re just… Studyin’,” Rintarou joined in, lifting his notebook and waving it around gently.

Atsumu frowned at that. He could’ve sworn the two invited him to come along with them. Not only that, they also neglected him for most of the time they were there, but he wasn’t going to mention that. So instead, he said, “Then why’d ya invite me?” 

Again, the two boys glanced at each other, this time exchanging the same look of confusion.

“We didn’t invite ya,” Osamu said and Rintarou nodded, both looking at him.

“Ya did!” Atsumu insisted. “’Samu, ya told me that you were going out, and that I could come.”

Osamu furrowed his eyebrows. “No we didn’t,” he said, “we specifically told ya _not_ to come, yet here you are.”

Mimicking Osamu’s expression, Atsumu opened his mouth to say something in response, only to close it back up again. “Did ya?” was what he ended up saying instead. He glanced at Osamu, who let out a sigh, then at Rintarou.

“We did,” Rintarou answered for Osamu.

Atsumu leaned back into his seat. “Oh.”

Rintarou snickered. Probably at him, or at Osamu, or at both of them.

Atsumu didn’t say anything else for a few seconds after that. Sure, he was a bit embarrassed, but he was _still_ so sure that Osamu and Rintarou had invited him along.

Perhaps he’d heard wrong, which he most likely did.

But was he planning on admitting that? Of course not.

“Y’know, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu began, breaking the silence, “ya can leave if ya want to.”

A small chorus of cheers sounded within Atsumu’s head. Finally, a chance to escape!

“Really?” Atsumu asked, not even trying to hide his happiness.

Osamu nodded. “We still have a lot to cover,” he told him. “Might finish at around five. Ya wouldn’t like that, wouldn’t ya?”

Atsumu turned on his phone to check the time. It was still barely past twelve. He thought that if he were to leave, he should do it now, when he’s given the chance to. Any later than that wouldn’t guarantee him another chance.

So, with that, he rose from his seat, not forgetting to take his phone with him.

The thought of leaving at _five in the evening_ after having done nothing for four to five hours prior to it just wasn’t something he felt up for doing.

“Yer actually leavin’?” Rintarou asked, sounding more surprised than the expression worn on his face.

“Yes,” Atsumu answered, before directing his gaze to his twin. “But not without another free drink,” he continued, earning a scowl from Osamu.

Osamu dug into his pocket for his wallet and, from inside of it, fished out a thin card. It was matte black in color and had the coffee shop’s logo slapped onto the middle in a glossy material, reflecting the lights from above their heads.

Atsumu opened his palm and Osamu handed the card to him with slight hesitance.

“Thank you,” he said with a smirk.

The satisfaction of feeling its coolness on the palm of his hand was nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing his brother scowl at him as he made his way to the counter to make his second order of coffee that day.

That was one of the main perks of having a brother who had a membership card.

“Nothing over three hundred!” Osamu warned, to which Atsumu responded with a half-hearted “Yeah.”

The line in front of the counter was long, and it only got longer as more seconds ticked by. Thankfully, Atsumu had already secured a spot on it. He was standing behind a group of teenage girls—around two or three of them, making him sixth or seventh in line.

“He’s so handsome,” said one of the girls to her friend.

“I know,” she replied. “Do you think he’s still in high school?”

The first girl giggled. “Could be. Should we ask?”

“Ask for his number too while you’re at it,” said another girl, making one giggle and the other blush.

Being in close enough proximity to eavesdrop on this little conversation, Atsumu let himself do just that—eavesdrop. He’d occasionally smile to himself whenever one of the girls said something silly about the _super-handsome_ guy they’d been gushing about.

“He looks like he jumped straight out of a shoujo manga!” was his favorite.

It got him curious, though. Just _how_ handsome was the guy to get not only one, but three girls fawning over him, calling him a prince or a shoujo manga character and whatnot?

However, his curiosity was quenched not too long after the question popped into his head. As the customers preceding him claimed their orders and the group of girls got to place theirs, the line shortened, bringing him closer to the counter. It was when the girls stopped their gushing and put up an act when he’d realized who the shoujo manga guy was.

Behind the counter was a barista. He wore a simple black T-shirt under his apron.

He looked normal enough, save for the fact that he looked _so_ fit.

Yes, of all the things Atsumu could’ve noticed first, he noticed the barista’s figure. How could he not? The black T-shirt he had on hugged his body just right, showing off his toned arms and small waist, prompting him to stare.

Something in Atsumu almost wanted to cut the line just to ask him about his workout routine.

But when he looked up, all thoughts concerning workout routines and looking fit completely escaped his mind, replaced by a single syllable word, enough to express the train wreck of new thoughts that entered his mind— _whoa_. 

He understood now why those girls kept on calling him all those nice things. 

Hell, he would’ve joined them if he’d known that this was the person they were talking about.

The barista had short, black curly hair that almost covered both his eyes. His features were sharp and strong, and whenever he turned to the side, you could see his perfectly sharp jawline.

Atsumu was _definitely_ staring now.

It wasn’t until after he felt a tap on his shoulder when he realized he’d already made it to the front of the line.

“You’re holding up a line here, buddy!” said a man from behind him.

“Yeah, we don’t got all day!” said another.

Atsumu turned around briefly to apologize to the two men and everyone else that he had inconvenienced. Then, he turned to face the barista who looked back at him with an emotionless face. Somehow, even without a single streak of emotion on his face, he still looked handsome.

“What would you like?” asked the barista, his voice deep. Something about it made him sound like he was in a pissy mood, despite his face.

Now that he was closer, Atsumu noticed that there were two beauty marks above his right eyebrow. They made him look all the more charming.

The barista suddenly shook his head lightly, resulting in a piece of his hair to fall in front of the top right side of his face; Atsumu realized that he must’ve stared for too long. So with that, he averted his gaze elsewhere and sighed internally, cursing himself in his mind.

“Sir?” asked the barista once again. 

“Oh, um, gimme a minute,” Atsumu answered before shifting his attention to the menu panel at the back. The boy let out a quiet sigh and looked away too as he waited for Atsumu to make his decision.

To tell the truth, Atsumu wasn’t _actually_ having trouble deciding on a drink; he’d already had one in mind. But for some _god damned_ reason, his mind went blank for a second after only talking briefly with the black-haired barista.

He let his eyes scan the menu, as if still looking for what he wanted. Then, once he decided it had been long enough, he fixed his gaze back on the barista, who looked ahead with a bored expression.

Finally, he showed some emotion.

“I’ll have the, um, iced tea,” Atsumu said, pressing his lips together into a small smile.

The barista looked at him but didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he turned away to input the order into the computer next to him and mumbled a quiet “Okay.”

As he did that, Atsumu placed Osamu’s membership card on the counter and the boy glanced at it briefly. With his hands behind his back, Atsumu nervously rocked back and forth, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels.

“That’ll be two-twenty,” the barista said—just for formalities—before taking the card.

He returned it soon after and asked Atsumu to wait for his order while they prepare it.

“Thanks,” Atsumu said, turning away to leave the counter immediately.

He wasn’t too far away from the counter when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Thinking it was the man from before, Atsumu hesitated before turning around. But when he saw that it was the barista who had tapped his shoulder, a surge of excitement ran through him. He almost forgot to control his face.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Can I have your name?” the barista asked.

A smug smile played on Atsumu’s lips, threatening to crack at any moment. Some lucky bastard he was.

He couldn’t help but think about the three girls from before. He wondered what they would think if they were there to see him about to have a conversation with their shoujo manga boy that didn’t only consist of “Here’s your drink,” and “Thanks.”

“The name’s Atsumu,” he answered confidently before continuing, “what’s yours?”

One corner of his lips curled upwards; the smile had finally made itself seen.

As Atsumu waited for an answer, the barista’s face twisted. “Excuse me?” he said, his face slightly flushed.

Noticing that, Atsumu chuckled before repeating himself, “What’s yer name?”

It’s understandable, Atsumu thought, anyone would be flustered if someone like him came up and asked for their name, especially if accompanied by that dashing smile of his.

Keyword: thought.

The barista, while still holding the same expression from before, glanced at the man that previously stood behind Atsumu, then back at him. Straightening his back, he cleared his throat. “That’s… not what I meant,” he said.

Atsumu’s smile froze. He didn’t understand. Had he perhaps misread the situation?

Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw the barista pick something up with his right hand. Atsumu glanced over at it and saw him holding onto a plastic cup. Immediately, his smile faltered and he felt the skin on his face begin to heat up.

Oh god, he _had_ misread the situation. Horribly, at that.

“I need your name for your order,” the barista told him, as if he hadn’t figured that out already.

“Oh, yeah… Right,” Atsumu said, laughing awkwardly, “I totally knew that!”

The barista gave him a brief look of pity before turning away to write Atsumu’s name on the plastic cup. After that, he handed it to a coworker of his who just happened to pass by behind him. She swiftly took the cup with her and prepared Atsumu’s drink while Atsumu hurriedly made his way to the other end of the counter, unable to bear the embarrassment anymore.

He hid behind a tall machine from the barista, who stopped paying attention to him as soon as he disappeared. 

Resting his elbows on that end of the counter, Atsumu put his head in his hands and heaved a big sigh. All he could think about was the incident from earlier. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, his brain kept on replaying the scene over and over again, as if someone had placed their finger on the replay button and refused to lift it until they were satisfied.

His hands travelled up to run his fingers through his blond hair. As he did that, he realized that the situation could’ve been much worse. If Osamu had been there to witness the scene play out, he knew that his twin wouldn’t let him live peacefully. 

Another sigh escaped his lips. This time it was of relief. Now he was somewhat glad that the second scenario hadn’t played out instead of the first.

Finally remembering the position he was in, Atsumu quickly lifted his head from his hands and straightened his back to stand up properly. He looked around the area to see if anyone had been staring at or watching him. Having confirmed that there were indeed no curious glances directed at him, Atsumu relaxed his shoulders.

It was almost immediately after that when a rich, strong voice rang in his ears, calling his name. Turning around, he saw the girl from before, holding up a plastic cup that had his name written on it in bold black marker ink.

“Atsumu?” she called for the second time, heading to the end of the counter. “Atsu—“ She paused when she saw the blond standing there, looking at her. “Are you Atsumu?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu answered simply, giving her a smile.

She smiled back at him and handed the cup—along with its receipt—over to him. “Here’s your iced tea—Enjoy!”

Atsumu took the two items and thanked her before walking past the counter, back to his table. When he got there, he saw that Osamu and Rintarou were still busy discussing their project. This time, a laptop was open in front of Rintarou and their notes were sprawled out on their half of the table.

“Yer not leavin’?” Osamu asked when he spotted Atsumu walking up to them.

“Wow. Rude.”

Osamu snickered at that. “Ya got my card?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got yer card,” Atsumu answered, returning the card to its rightful owner.

Receiving his card, Osamu glanced at the plastic cup in his brother’s hand. “What’d ya get?”

“Iced tea.”

“How much was it?”

Atsumu glanced at his brother and hesitated before saying, “Two-twenty.”

The hesitation didn’t go unnoticed by Osamu, of course. When he spotted the slight pause, he immediately narrowed his eyes at the blond and asked, “Ya sure?”

The suspicion in his brother’s tone was all too obvious.

Atsumu almost wanted to challenge him, but he decided against it. He truly wasn’t in the right headspace to argue with the other boy. So instead, he handed Osamu the small piece of paper that came with his drink as he sat down. “Here,” he said, “you can check the receipt.”

Osamu took the paper into his own hand and looked at it before nodding. “Okay,” he said, sliding it back to Atsumu. Soon after that, his attention was shifted back to his and Rintarou’s project, leaving Atsumu to silently sip on his drink.

In his silence, Atsumu’s mind went back to the whole name incident from before. Because the first time wasn’t bad already, right?

He imagined seeing himself from the barista’s point of view, how he confidently asked, “What’s yer name?” with a smile. He felt like an idiot and physically cringed when he tried to imagine what the barista was thinking at that instance. He must’ve been weirded out, was what Atsumu thought. Hell, if _he_ were in the barista’s position, he would definitely feel weirded out.

He stopped sipping the syrupy drink and instead settled with biting the end of the long plastic straw that came with it. 

He swore to himself that if there was a next time, if Osamu and Rintarou—or anyone at all for that matter—were to invite him to this specific coffee shop again, he would decline without thinking twice. There was no way in hell he could show his face here anymore. Not after that incident. Not as long as he knew that barista still worked here. 

Speaking of the barista—

Atsumu glanced sideways at the black haired barista from before. He was listening patiently to a customer who seemed to be having a hard time deciding on an order, even more than how Atsumu pretended to be.

Perhaps it was because their indecisiveness was genuine.

After a good few seconds, the barista looked like he was ready to give up. He brought with him a sheet of laminated paper—probably the menu card—and showed it to the customer, pointing at different items one by one and explaining to them about said items. As the barista’s finger left one spot and wandered to another, the customer’s eyes followed, and so did Atsumu’s, even though he was sat at quite a distance away from the counter.

The customer smiled after the third or fourth time his finger moved. They pointed at the drink it landed on with their own smaller finger, telling him that that was the one they wanted and the barista complied, giving them a small smile before putting away the menu card and taking out a paper cup and his marker.

Atsumu huffed at that before looking away from the counter and resuming the straw biting.

If Osamu and Rintarou weren’t there with him, he would’ve already resorted to grumbling. But unfortunately for him, they were, so all he could do was angrily chew on his straw and hope he wasn’t being too obvious.

Except he was.

He was being _too_ obvious.

So obvious that he managed to pique the curiosity of Rintarou, who gave him a concerned look before asking, “Somethin’ botherin’ ya, ‘Tsumu?”

Hearing his name being mentioned, Atsumu immediately stopped chewing on his straw and looked up.

“Who? What? Me?”

“Yeah,” Rintarou said. “Ya seem totally out of it. What’s up?”

Osamu, who was previously going through his notes, joined the conversation. “Did somethin’ happen while you were orderin’?

_Yeah, I asked a barista for his name because I thought he was tryin’ to hit on me_.

“No,” Atsumu answered with a shake of his head, “nothin’ happened.”

The two glanced at each other, then back at him.

“Ya sure?” Rintarou asked.

“Yeah, it’s just…” Atsumu glanced around, as if looking for something to use as an excuse. His gaze landed on his half-empty cup, and without thinking twice, he picked it up. “It’s just this drink!” He pointed at the cup. “It’s… too good.”

Osamu and Rintarou exchanged another glance before shrugging.

“Um... Okay,” Rintarou said, “whatever ya say, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu let out an awkward giggle before putting down the cup, while the two resumed their work. Soon enough, they were back to paying no attention to him.

With their attention finally averted from him, Atsumu went back to silently sipping his drink. He made sure to stop gnawing at his poor straw so as to not accidentally get pieces of plastic in his mouth as well as raise more suspicion from the other two boys.

Rintarou closed his laptop with a satisfied sigh and slumped onto his seat; Osamu chuckled at that as he reached for his cup of hot—now cold—coffee. 

After what seemed like hours, the two finally finished their project and were finally talking like normal people, not like a pair of robots whose only form of communication was uttering scientific terms back and forth to each other.

At this point, Atsumu had long finished his drink and was instead playing with several sheets of napkins. The table that was previously half covered by open notebooks and worksheet paper had instead become littered with Atsumu’s creations, such as rectangles and triangles of various sizes and a few failed attempts at creating a ‘napkin crane’. 

“Give it a rest, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu said suddenly, interrupting Atsumu from his fourth attempt at napkin origami, “yer never gonna be able to do it.” He lightly flicked one of Atsumu’s failed attempts and looked at his brother, who was frowning at him. “Plus, yer wastin' perfectly good napkins,” he added.

Atsumu ignored the comment and continued folding. “This one’ll work, I know it!” he said, partially to convince himself.

With a gentle press, he ran his finger over the delicate surface of the paper napkin, flattening it against itself. Then, he flipped it over to the other side and did the exact same thing. Only this time, he pressed a little too hard, resulting in a small, but noticeable tear at the center of the fold.

“You were sayin’?” Osamu smirked at him.

Atsumu shot him a glare before tossing the failed attempt onto the pile of other failed attempts. “Is there any more?” he asked to both boys.

“No,” Osamu said immediately, to which Atsumu responded with a dirty look.

He figured Osamu would say that. So, instead of arguing, he decided to simply stand up and go get some more. “I’m gonna get more,” he announced.

It was only after making the decision when he realized that going to get more napkin meant he would have to see that barista again. And, _god_ , he really didn’t want that.

The rising corners of his lips, however, begged to differ.

He bit his bottom lip lightly, to suppress the incoming smile, and glanced at the counter, only to be surprised by the lack of a curly, black haired barista standing behind it. Immediately, his shoulders dropped. 

“Y'know,” Rintarou said suddenly, “you can use these instead of gettin' more.” He lifted one of the napkins that Atsumu had folded into rectangles and triangles.

Atsumu glanced between the napkin in Rintarou’s hand and the counter and contemplated his options. On one hand, Rintarou was right—he _could_ use those ones instead of fresh ones; but on the other hand, going up to get more napkins meant that he would have to see that barista again. And maybe he did want that after all.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “those are already folded; I want new ones.” That was the best excuse he could come up with, and now that it was out there, all he could do was hope that it was believable enough.

Rintarou stared at him for a moment before shrugging and putting the folded napkin back on the table. He seemed to believe the little lie.

Osamu, however, wasn't convinced as easily

“These are completely fine ‘Tsumu.”

Hearing the disapproving tone in his brother’s voice, Atsumu turned to look at him. “No, they’re not,” he insisted. One of his legs had already taken a step out and was ready to take him away from their table.

Osamu frowned at him and opened his mouth to say something in response. But before he could, Atsumu was already rushing out of his sight. 

Without looking back, Atsumu made his way towards the end of the counter, where he’d waited for his drink earlier. A long line of people had formed in front of the cashier, making it a bit difficult to get to his destination. Atsumu had to squeeze past a couple of people. But before that, he had to explain that he was not trying to cut the line and instead trying to cross to the other side. It took a while of hushed arguing with a fellow customer, but he eventually got to where he wanted to be.

At the end of the counter was a station packed with straws and sugar packets and other necessities that customers could come and pick up as they wish. Spotting the napkins wasn’t much of a challenge as it was positioned the closest to him. But given the fact that he had yet to see a certain someone, Atsumu decided to linger around there, pretending as though he was having trouble looking for something.

After a while of nothing he grew quite bored. The barista had yet to make his appearance, and was probably not going to make an appearance any time soon. In that short while, Atsumu managed to figure out that the person handling the cash register was the girl from before. He contemplated a couple of times whether or not he should ask her about her co-worker. 

Suddenly a deep and slightly gravelly voice came from behind him, saying, “Looking for something?” Thinking that it was the barista, Atsumu’s entire body spun to face the person. But when he saw who the person really was, he was a bit disappointed to say the least.

The person was a man that had an entirely different look to the barista, with his dark brown hair tied into a bun that hung loosely near the nape of his neck and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his pierced nose. At first glance he looked like the type to scare away kids for fun, but after a smile appeared on his face, he looked anything but intimidating. Atsumu’s shoulders relaxed.

“Would you like some help?” the person asked again.

“Oh, uh… No, thank you,” Atsumu answered. He glanced at the pack of napkins beside him and picked up a few sheets. “Just looking for these,” he continued with an added laugh at the end.

A trace of suspicion flashed over the man’s features before he let out a soft chuckle. “Okay then,” he said, “if you need anything else, please feel free to ask our staff.” With that, the man made his way behind the counter, past the cash register.

Once he was out of sight, Atsumu let out a sigh of relief. He looked at the flimsy sheets of napkins in his hand and pocketed them as he made his way back to his table. At this point he was sure he wasn’t going to see the barista any time soon, so returning to Osamu and Rintarou was the best and only option available to him.

As he walked past the long line of people and through the spaces between chairs and tables, he didn’t pay too much attention to where he was going. Having made multiple trips from their table to the counter and back, he pretty much had the entire route engraved in his mind. However, on the final turn, he ran into a boy who looked equally as startled as he was. His hands instantly went to the tray that separated them, helping the boy to keep it from falling over.

After making sure that the tray was balanced and safe, Atsumu let out a breath of relief. Then, he looked up and opened his mouth to apologize. But just as he was about to, he realized something funny—the boy he ran into looked a bit too familiar.

The boy sported a casual look, with a simple black T-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans under a long apron. He also had black hair with curly bangs that partially covered one of his eyes, almost masking the fact that he was staring at Atsumu with widened eyes.

Atsumu racked his mind to try and figure out where he’d seen this person… Until he realized.

The boy was none other than the barista—the person he’d been looking for. 

So _that_ was why he looked so familiar. 

Internally, Atsumu cursed at himself.

“Sorry!” he said finally, his voice cracking a bit on the last syllable. For that, he almost wanted to curse at himself again.

The barista tore away his gaze from Atsumu and instead fixated them on the dishes that sat atop the tray, his lips pursing together into a slight pout. “It’s fine,” he said without looking up, “it was my fault. I should’ve been more careful.” Then, without waiting for Atsumu’s response, the barista slipped past him and rushed to the opposite side of the coffee shop. Atsumu could only follow after his figure from afar with his eyes until the barista was no longer within his line of sight.

Once he was, Atsumu let out a breath he hadn’t realize he’d been holding. 

That had got to be the most embarrassing thing to have happened to him that day, pushing their first interaction to second place. But even if it was, it still made him feel some type of way. And just like before, his cheeks began to feel warm. Only this time, it was in a good way.

“Hey ‘Tsumu!” Rintarou’s voice called, catching him off guard. 

Right. For a second there, he’d forgotten that their table was only one turn away.

He turned his head to look for the source and found the two boys smirking at him. Seeing that, he immediately put on a scowl. “What?” he asked.

“ _Loved_ the voice crack,” Rintarou said, finally letting out the snort that he’d been holding back, which gradually grew into quiet laughter.

Osamu joined in too, mocking said voice crack. “ _’Sorry!’_ ”

Atsumu’s lip twitched and he felt his face heat up even more. With that, he marched towards the two and lifted a fist, acting as though he was threatening to hit them if the laughter continued. Although, he ended up lowering it once he realized that it didn’t have as much effect on the situation as he’d hoped for. With that, he sat on his chair and slumped against it. “Shut up,” was the last thing he said to them before folding his arms in front of his chest and pretending to give them the silent treatment.

The laughter died down soon after Rintarou pat Osamu’s shoulder and they calmed themselves.

“So ya got yer napkins?” Osamu asked after a moment.

Atsumu glanced at him, his eyes narrowed and arms still folded. “Yeah,” he answered curtly.

“Okay. Good. ‘Cause turns out, me and Rin aren’t done after all.” He replaced the notebooks that had previously littered their half of the table and started to flip through the pages. Rintarou did the same as he booted up his laptop again.

Slowly unfolding his arms, Atsumu looked at his brother’s opened notebooks. “What do ya _mean_ yer not done?”

“I _mean_ we’re not done! Turns out we left out an important section,” Osamu explained. “Apparently it’s worth the most points.”

“So yer gonna add it _now_?”

“Why not? The shop’s still open and we’ve still got our coffees.”

Atsumu’s eyebrows knitted together. “It’s past five, ‘Samu!”

“So?”

“ _'So'_? Ya said you’d be done by five.”

“ _Around_ five,” Osamu corrected. “I never said we’d finish at _exactly_ five.”

Hearing that, Atsumu let out a grumble and refolded his arms. “How long will it take ya?”

“Shouldn’t be too long. Thirty minutes tops,” Rintarou answered in place of Osamu before adjusting his laptop’s position so that Osamu could see its screen clearly.

“If ya wanna go home first, ya can,” Osamu told Atsumu before he could react. “I know ya don’t wanna wait.”

Atsumu gazed at his brother, his eyes twinkling at the resurfacing of that option. Osamu was right—he didn’t want to wait for them to finish their work. And maybe he should’ve left when the chance first came up, which was right after buying the iced tea that was now nothing but an empty plastic cup. Or maybe he shouldn’t have showed up altogether. But if he had done either of those things, he wouldn’t have bumped into the barista earlier. And if he left now, only god knows when he could see the barista again.

He heaved a deep sigh. His thoughts were in a jumble.

“No, I’ll stay and wait,” was what he ended up saying after some thinking.

“Yer stayin’?” both Osamu and Rintarou asked at the same time. It seemed as though neither of them thought of the possibility of the blond rejecting the option to leave.

Atsumu nodded. “Yeah. Somethin' wrong with that?”

The two glanced at each other, and for a split but noticeable second, they exchanged a look. Atsumu couldn’t tell exactly what it was, or what it communicated.

“Nah,” Rintarou said, with a shake of his head. “We’ll try to finish up soon.”

Right after he said this, the barista walked past their table. That, of course, caught Atsumu’s attention, and he couldn’t help but stare as the barista made his way to a table at the corner of the room. He brought with him a tray with a couple of white mugs that he soon placed in front of the two people who occupied the table.

Atsumu’s eyes lingered on him for a while, before he finally tore his gaze away and told Rintarou, “Don’t rush. Take yer time.”

Within the first fifteen minutes of the promised thirty-minute time window, the barista often walked past their table. Sometimes he would be there to serve orders, other times to tidy and clean up tables. And every time he did, Atsumu’s eyes would always find their way to him. He would stare occasionally, but not for long, as he dreaded the awkwardness that would come from getting caught.

At some point, the barista walked back to the counter and stopped coming back. After a while of his absence, Atsumu grew impatient. He thought of coming up with another excuse to go find him, but nothing came to mind.

Just as the beginnings of an idea began to sprout in his mind, Osamu’s voice rang clearly saying, “Oh come _on_ , just ask for his number already!”

The words felt like a bucket of cold water had just been dumped onto his head. He immediately turned his head to look at his brother. “What?” 

“The guy with the curly, black hair,” Osamu repeated himself, “stop starin' and go ask for his number.”

Atsumu looked at Osamu with widened eyes and flushed cheeks. How did he know? He was sure Osamu had been too busy with Rintarou and his project this entire time; he couldn’t have had enough time to pay attention to what—or who—Atsumu was staring at.

He couldn’t have, right?

Either way, Atsumu still tried his best to appear calm, despite himself. “I wasn’t starin' at him,” he denied.

“Bull,” Rintarou said, joining in with a scoff. “If ya wanted to lie about it, ya coulda at least made it less obvious.”

Atsumu’s cheeks grew warmer with each word.

“I really wasn’t—“

“’Tsumu,” Osamu interrupted him. “Go ask for his number. Ya know ya wanna.”

Looking at the two boys in front of him, he almost wanted to throw each of them a punch on the shoulder. And if it hadn’t been for his body moving before he could think, he would have.

“Good luck,” Rintarou told him finally, before he stood up and made his way towards the counter

Atsumu walked past a couple of previously empty tables, now occupied with new customers. At this time of the day, anyone would expect the coffee shop to be half empty, but it was the contrary—the coffee shop was buzzing with even more customers than it had earlier. Though, despite that, not many people lined up in front of the counter. Seeing this, Atsumu balled his hand to a fist and thrust it lightly, cheering silently to himself.

Without double checking whether the person behind the counter was indeed the barista, Atsumu quickly secured a spot at the end of the line and waited patiently for his turn.

He hadn’t been waiting for too long before some familiar chattering entered his hearing field.

In front of him was a mother and her daughter lining up to order. She leaned close to her daughter and in her not-so-quiet voice, said, “That boy over at the front is quite handsome, don’t you think?”

Hearing that, Atsumu smiled to himself. He knew immediately who they were talking about.

As more and more people finished placing their orders and Atsumu’s position in the line moved up, he gradually grew more and more nervous, as if he would be meeting a celebrity in a few seconds. 

Thinking about it again, he felt that perhaps meeting a celebrity would be somewhat similar to whatever the churning feeling in his gut was supposed to be.

One by one, the customers preceding him finished placing their orders and promptly left their spot on the line. Before he knew it, he was only a couple of steps away from once again coming face to face with the barista.

His heart was beating at an almost uncontrollable pace. He wasn’t sure because of what exactly, but he knew that if it were to start beating any faster, a hole would begin to form on his chest.

As the final two customers left their spot for him to take, Atsumu caught himself taking a deep breath before stepping up close to the counter. Once again, he was at the same spot where he first met the barista. Only this time, his nervousness was mixed with slight excitement.

“Please wait,” said the barista to him in a hurry. Walking here and there behind the counter, the barista seemed to be busy with something else. It took him a few seconds before he finished and finally decided to leave whatever he was doing and take Atsumu’s order. “Hello, what would you…” He paused for three heartbeats before continuing, “like?”

As he said the last word, he looked away from Atsumu, avoiding his eyes.

“Hey there, it’s me again,” Atsumu said, giving him a sheepish smile.

The barista glanced back at him. “Hi…” he said, greeting him.

A sudden silence fell upon them, filling the air with nothing but awkwardness and mainstream pop songs. It lasted for a moment before the barista purposely cleared his throat.

“So, what would you like to order?” he asked afterwards, his expression and tone calmer.

“Uh… Actually, I’m not here to order anything,” Atsumu answered.

The barista furrowed his eyebrows, confused. He paused for a while to collect his words before asking, “Then what can I help you with?”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to fall silent. 

Even before walking up to the counter, he hadn’t thought to think of a plan, or at least something to say. He felt like that was unnecessary, since he never quite expected to make it this far. But now that he’d actually made it, he was left dumbfounded, not knowing what to do.

“I, Uh… Umm…” Unable to form a proper sentence, he began to avert his gaze, his ability to maintain eye contact faltering alongside his ability to form sentences.

As he glanced at different things, searching for something—anything—to say, he spotted a pair of familiar faces watching him out of the corner of his eye. Almost immediately, he fixed his eyes on them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the two faces belonged to none other than Osamu and Rintarou. They were watching him and even started to silently cheer him on when they realized they’d been spotted.

How long they’d been watching, Atsumu didn’t know; even if he did, it’d still embarrass him.

Not wanting to give them any more of his attention, Atsumu turned his gaze back to the person in front of him. Just as his eyes were making their way back, he caught a glimpse of what seemed to be the barista glancing away, almost as if he’d just got caught staring. 

Atsumu didn’t think much of it.

“I’m probably holding up a line, aren’t I?” he said, trying a different approach.

The barista shook his head. “Not really.” He then pointed behind Atsumu.

Turning around to see, Atsumu found that he was indeed not holding up a line, as there wasn’t much of a line behind him. He was the only one there.

He sighed. This just got a lot harder.

“Do you still need my help?” asked the barista suddenly.

Turning around, Atsumu gave him a sheepish grin and giggled. “Uh, well…” 

He instinctively glanced to the side again, only to see Osamu and Rintarou, still watching. They made faces and mouthed some words, all to urge him to ask for the barista’s number. They probably meant well, but it definitely wasn’t helping his situation in the slightest bit.

He discreetly waved his hand, as if telling them to quit it and piss off.

“Okay,” Atsumu said finally, psyching himself up. He looked straight at the barista and said, “Can I have your number?” to which the barista responded with raised eyebrows and widened eyes.

“What?”

Hearing that, Atsumu held his breath and bit the inside of his cheek. The response sounded too much like a rejection waiting to happen. So, to save himself the humiliation, he decided not to repeat himself and instead say something else. 

“Um, never mind,” he said, waving his hands in front of himself. "Could I just get another iced tea? To go, please.”

The barista didn’t seem to expect that answer, so he paused for a while yet again. Afterwards, his face relaxed and so did his shoulders. “Okay,” he answered.

Atsumu nodded and watched silently as the barista input his order into the computer, like he did before, and come back to get a plastic cup and a marker. He briefly stopped the barista to give him some money in exchange for the drink. Without Osamu’s card, he was forced to pay with his own money. He didn’t mind, but then again, his original plan wasn’t to buy another drink, so some unwillingness was shown in his gesture.

The barista took the money before putting the marker up to the side of the cup. He stopped himself and asked, “Atsumu, right?”

Hearing his name roll off the barista’s tongue, the blond couldn’t help but let himself show his surprise. 

“R-right. Yeah, that’s my name.”

Having written the name down before, of course the barista would remember. Atsumu only realized this after the exchange had ended.

Though subtle, Atsumu saw a corner of the barista’s lips curl upwards slightly.

Or maybe not.

Maybe it was just him, but he could’ve sworn he saw what he saw.

“Okay,” the barista said. He jotted the name down on the cup and left Atsumu standing in front of the counter.

It was strange, Atsumu thought. Earlier today he had coworkers to help make the drinks while he manned the counter. Right now, however, he seemed to be the only one there, working two jobs all at the same time. It brought a slight frown to his face.

After quite a while, the barista returned with Atsumu’s drink in his hand, complete with a straw and several sheets of napkins. He handed everything to Atsumu and Atsumu took them all in one hand. During this, their hands briefly brushed against each other. It was a small gesture, but Atsumu couldn’t help but notice it.

“Thanks,” he said, not forgetting to smile.

Just like before, the barista didn’t smile back at him. Instead, he said, “You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy your drink, Atsumu.”

Once again hearing the barista’s pleasant voice say his name, Atsumu felt a surge of warmth making its way towards his cheeks. Naturally, he didn’t want to let the other boy see him like that. So, by laughing towards the floor in a _totally_ unintentional way, Atsumu managed to save himself.

“Thanks, I sure will,” he said before bringing his face back up and smiling.

To that, the barista responded with a slight nod.

“I should, uh… I should go, huh?”

Another nod came from the barista. This time, though, it happened with a hint of hesitance.

“Okay, see ya around.” 

Atsumu gave him a small wave with his empty hand. With that, he turned his back towards the counter and began making his way back to his table. 

Waiting for him back at the table was Osamu and Rintarou, their eyes following him all the way from the counter to his seat, like a pair of hungry hyenas waiting to pounce at any given moment. 

Once he was seated, they began to bombard him with questions back to back, almost not giving him a chance to answer.

“How was it?”

“What were you two talkin’ about?”

“Is he cuter up close?”

“Is he single?”

But the most important question of all was, “Didja get his number?”

Hearing the question, Atsumu could only sigh as he shook his head.

“No?” Rintarou asked. He glanced at Osamu, then back at the blond twin. “Is he taken?”

“I don’t know,” Atsumu answered.

“Ya didn’t ask?”

Again, the blond shook his head. Osamu and Rintarou stopped their questions after that.

“I tried to,” Atsumu said eventually, piquing the other two’s interest once more, “but I don’t think he wants to give me his number.”

“So ya got a drink instead?” Osamu asked flatly.

“Yeah.” He put down the cup and tossed the napkins near it. “And now I don’t know what to do with this.”

As Atsumu sulked about failing the somewhat simple task, Rintarou’s eyes flickered over to the napkins and stayed on them for quite a while, seeming as if he was trying to decipher some sort of code that only he could see. Only after he was sure of what he’d seen, did he reach over for them.

“Can I?” he asked Atsumu.

Atsumu glanced at him, then at the napkins. Seeing nothing wrong with the request, he gave him a nod, allowing him to proceed with whatever he had in mind. With that, Rintarou picked them up and inspected them. Almost a second after, a snort escaped the brunet.

He shook his head.

“Hey ‘Tsumu?” he called.

“Yeah?”

“Are ya sure the guy didn’t give ya his number?”

Bringing his eyebrows together, Atsumu could only stare at him and wonder what on earth that was supposed to mean. 

Did Rintarou think he was lying when he said he didn’t get the barista’s phone number? Or was that somehow meant to tease him? Either way he didn’t like the question very much and was curious to know what Rintarou was implying.

It seemed as though the question also piqued Osamu’s curiosity, as he looked at Rintarou with the same questioning look.

“Yeah…?” 

Atsumu was even unsure of his own answer.

Rintarou raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing at his lips. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

The more he said the word, the less it sounded like one. And the more he responded with it, the less sure he was of his answer.

If only Rintarou would just get straight to the point.

“Stop being so cryptic, Rin,” Osamu said, a frown on his face.

_Thank God_. 

Rintarou chuckled at that. “Okay, okay.” He then picked up a single sheet of napkin from the pile he’d taken and slid it over towards Atsumu. “Use yer eyes next time,” he said.

Still frowning, Atsumu eyed the sheet. “What’re ya tryin’ to say?”

Rolling his eyes, Rintarou sighed. “Check the napkin.”

Immediately, Atsumu looked at his twin, who stared back at him with the same look of epiphany, then at the folded pile that lay in the middle of the table.

The implication was clear now; according to Rintarou, if he were to take the napkin and check it, he would find the ten digits belonging to the cute barista. And though it sounded almost impossible, at that moment, Atsumu wanted more than anything for it to be true.

He decided to go for it.

As a mixture of both excitement and nervousness built up at the pit of his stomach, the blond reached for the sheet. Once it was in his hand, Atsumu pulled it close to himself and flipped it over, showing himself its underside.

“So?” Osamu asked, eager to know whether the phone number was indeed there or not.

Atsumu glanced at his brother, the corners of his lips twitching to form a smile as he showed off the white sheet. “Ya tell me, ‘Samu,” he said. At this point, he couldn’t hide the grin anymore.

Grabbing the sheet to see for himself, Osamu almost laughed in disbelief. “ _No way_.”

There were indeed writings on the back of the napkin, consisting of only two lines written in bold, black letters. It said:

_Sakusa Kiyoomi  
xxx-xxxx-xxx_

**Author's Note:**

> i sure took my sweet time writing this knowing i dont have that much time skdfsk (u could tell bc this resulted in a rushed ending ahaha....)
> 
> anyways!! since sakuatsu fluff week isn't 100% over, i thought i could enter another submission :D the more the merrier, right?
> 
> also ! to those of u who have shown love to this fic and the one before it, thank you sososo much!! especially to those of u who took time to leave comments. i like reading ur opinions on my work and using them to improve my writing and storytelling skills in general. sooo keep 'em coming! 
> 
> ps: in case u didn't notice--no, i don't know how a membership card works.  
> pps: i love you & stay safe!!


End file.
